


Chasing Tail

by AsgardianAngels



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Anatomy, Julian nerding out, M/M, a bottle episode if ever there was one, an assortment of tail headcanons, cardassians have tails, rather dialogue-heavy in the second half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsgardianAngels/pseuds/AsgardianAngels
Summary: Garak has once again landed himself in the Infirmary, but this time the problem isn't so easily diagnosed. Julian's in for a surprise when he's confronted with a rather glaring gap in his knowledge of Cardassian anatomy. A good bit of banter and Q&A ensues, with a satisfying conclusion for both parties. Set vaguely somewhere after The Die is Cast and before Our Man Bashir.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95





	Chasing Tail

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags state, I wrote this with the express purpose of solidifying my headcanons about how Cardassians might get away with having tails in canon despite us never seeing them. (It's not perfect but let's squint and maybe fill in the loopholes with your imagination.) Garak's back problems are canon, so I ran with that. It started as being funny, but somehow angst managed to creep its way in there. Par for the course with Garak.   
> Also this is my first Garashir fic! Somehow out of my multiple WIPs this got finished first, incredible. It's been a few years since I've posted anything, so it's nice to be back in the saddle. My other upcoming fics do have more of a plot, I assure you... anyway, I hope you enjoy!

“I’m so sorry – are you alright? Garak?”

In an instant Julian was at the Cardassian’s side, crouching down to where he sat rather dumbfounded on the floor of the tennis court. Before he could protest, the doctor had already pulled out a tricorder and begun scanning him. As the device hovered near his face, he considered swatting it away. Where did that man keep those damned things anyway? It seemed he always had one at the ready.

Garak knew it was a mistake to finally take Julian up on his long-standing offer of a cardio exercise session. To his own chagrin though, as much as he wanted to believe that he remained in peak physical condition from years of intensive training in the Order, his creaky knees and mulish back begged to differ. His age was showing. Besides, the overindulgence in Delavian chocolates wasn’t any help – he ought to blame the good doctor for that one in fact, as they so often shared the treats at the end of a long shift. Getting a new delivery in from his supplier ensured a few more moments stolen with Julian. It had become something of a Pavlovian response, he feared. What was indeed once a luxury was now, admittedly, more of a staple. A repulsive vision of himself devolving into Tain, bloated and decrepit in his old age, as a result of his gluttony flashed momentarily through his thoughts. Well, that simply wouldn’t do.

Truth be told, the prospect of a scenic view offered substantial incentive for Garak to agree to this venture. The visage of Julian in his workout attire – loose-fitting and low-cut sleeveless top, and shorts that really, were just a little _too_ short to be publicly decent – gave Garak the genuine challenge of keeping focused on the game enough to be a worthy opponent. An exercise of the mind as well as the body, as it should be. Keeping that Cardassian discipline fine-tuned.

…Or so he’d thought, as his attention had slipped for just a few seconds, and before he knew it the ball was hurtling towards him. Flinching, he had tried to twist out of the way, and the ball hit his side hard, the combination of torque and surprise sending him stumbling backwards. He gasped as immediate pain shot up his spine upon impact with the ground. He’d certainly wrenched his back, that was nothing new these days, but there was something more that was starting to ring alarm bells in his head. He was grateful after all to be in the presence of a physician, however demanding and _ahem_ – scandalously dressed.

The delightfully intoxicating scent of Julian’s pheromone-laden sweat, glistening on the silky skin inches away from his own was almost enough to distract him from the pain – sharp as a knife, tearing its way up his lower back with the slightest motion. Tentatively, he wiggled his toes, and was relieved to find they still responded to his command. Having allayed that fear, he relinquished himself to Bashir’s nimble ministrations.

The tricorder halted upon reaching Garak’s back. Julian narrowed his eyes, and glanced a few times between the instrument and the afflicted area.

“Hm.”

Garak looked at him out of the corner of his eye, preferring not to tempt aggravating the injury by turning his head. “What is it, Doctor?”

Julian set the tricorder down beside him and turned his full attention to Garak. “I’m getting some anomalous readings. To be quite honest, I can’t make heads or tails of it. Are you in any pain?”

Garak reached a hand out to Julian and grimaced as another spike of needlelike agony shot through him. “A fair bit, yes…”

“Whereabouts exactly?” Gently, the doctor lifted the hem of Garak’s lightweight tunic and traced his fingers along the keeled scutes running down the length of the Cardassian’s spine. As he approached the last few, Garak hissed, and he frowned.

“Alright, I’m going to get you to the infirmary. Don’t try to move.”

Garak fixed him with a weary look. “You’ll get no arguments from me.”

Julian grabbed his duffel bag, then tapped his comm badge. “Two for emergency medical transport.”

Within seconds they were beamed to sickbay, and Julian set to work preparing a hypospray while Garak remained still on the carpeted floor.

“Here,” Julian said, administering the dose to Garak’s neck, avoiding his ridges. “This should help with the pain, enough to get you onto a biobed.”

Almost immediately the shooting pain dulled to a nagging ache, and he was helped to his feet. A step at a time, Julian walked him to the side of the examination table, and nearly singlehandedly lifted him on. Now in a tolerable sitting position, Garak quietly marveled at the doctor’s strength – it betrayed his slender stature, enough to warrant further investigation. Another time, perhaps.

Julian laid a sympathetic hand on Garak’s arm. “I’ll be right back, just hold tight for a few minutes.”

Hoisting his duffel bag over his shoulder he disappeared into the back room of the infirmary. When he returned, he was wearing his Starfleet uniform. Garak hid his disappointment. From behind him, he could hear Julian pressing buttons at the computer console and muttering under his breath when he surely did not get the answers he was hoping for.

“Alright,” Julian said, circling his patient. “I have to do a manual examination, so I’ll need you to remove your shirt. Do you want help?”

Much as he loathed accepting assistance (a slippery slope to pity), he knew better than to press his luck. He nodded, and Julian gingerly tugged the tunic over Garak’s head. He was grateful to only be wearing a single layer, or else this would have been much more taxing. Exposed to the brisk air of the station, he shivered, and felt his back seize. He considered asking for another hypospray, but decided against it. Without some amount of pain, he wouldn’t be able to assess his own condition.

Julian came back around to the other side of the biobed, out of Garak’s field of vision. He suddenly felt a pair of hands loosening his belt and coaxing his trousers down a few inches. _Standard medical procedure_ , he reassured himself. Besides, it’s nothing Bashir hasn’t seen by this point, with his numerous overnight stays in the infirmary. Oh, how he did hate to wake up and find himself outfitted in one of those hideous purple and orange gowns, knowing an invasion of privacy had certainly taken place. The indignity of it all.

Garak shuddered at the heat of Julian’s hand on his skin, in stark contrast to the chilly, sterile air of the station.

“It’s strange…” he heard from behind him – _close_ behind him – as the doctor began his inspection, fingers deftly traveling along each scaled vertebra of his lower back. “The tricorder readings were showing abnormal bone growth around your coccyx. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was an unusual form of an osteoma –” He poked his head around so Garak could see him, and spotted the alarmed expression on the man’s face. “A bone tumor, that is.” He resumed his work, paying careful attention to the basal vertebrae. “Thing is, there’s no way I wouldn’t have detected something like that before now, and you’d have been in pain for quite some time.” He paused. “You… haven’t been hiding any discomfort –”

“No, Doctor,” Garak insisted. “I assure you, I was feeling perfectly fine before this… _accident_.”

He could sense Julian’s scowl. Whether or not the doctor believed him, he did tell the truth on occasion. Just enough, he thought, to land himself in Dr. Bashir’s tender care when the loneliness became too much to bear and he gave in to this unique flavor of weakness he’d come to crave so pathetically these last few years. Julian’s touch was graceful yet firm, clinical but not impersonal. Garak sometimes entertained the quaint notion that the doctor reserved such a touch for him alone, but he knew it not to be true. He’s seen the manner in which Bashir treated each and every one of the patients under his charge, the comforting warmth he infused into his smile whether the outlook was bright or bleak. Compassion, mercy, an inherent value placed on life, traits he always scolded as part of the hypocritical Federation doctrine. To insist that an existence as contemptible as his own had worth for the sake of it is how Garak knew it was a foolish credo to live by.

“Hm…” The delicate noise jostled Garak from his thoughts, the cold, blindingly-lit room coming back into focus. He realized with some surprise that he’d been smiling softly, and promptly knocked it off.

Julian was looking closely at a rather peculiar feature of the Cardassian’s skin. A minute blotch, somewhat darker gray than the surrounding scales, which sat an inch or so to the left of the base of his spine. A birthmark? Do Cardassians have those? But as he peered intently at the spot, he realized that the dark patch was under, rather than on, the skin. An… implant? _Another_ one? How many pieces of microtechnology was this man fitted with? He shook off the thought – all that mattered is if this chip was in some way contributing to Garak’s current condition.

There was never an easy way to broach this subject with Garak.

“Is everything alright, Doctor?” Garak asked, a tad wary. “Surely you’ve found the problem by now?”

“I’ve found… _a_ problem…” He cringed. Good start, Bashir. “Not to be rude Garak, but are you aware you have a subdermal implant, right here?” He traced around the area lightly with his finger.

Startled, Garak hurriedly flipped through his mental catalogue of operations performed while in the Order, even going back as far as Bamarren. Base of the spinal column… _oh_. How silly of him to forget! Well it wasn’t all that difficult, given that it had become nearly second nature at this point; he’d been in exile, away from Cardassia Prime and surrounded by a colorful assortment of alien species, for so long now. 

“Indeed I am, Doctor.” He offered a polite smile, although Bashir couldn’t see it.

“…Ah.” The silence hung in the air as Julian tried to gauge how to proceed. “I… really don’t mean to pry, I know how –”

“I understand, and it’s quite alright.” Garak waved his hands dismissively, then set them to rest in his lap. “I can disable the implant for you. I only ask that you close off the infirmary for the time being, as this is something of a rather personal nature.” 

“Of course,” Julian assured, and came over to press the pad on the wall. The doors connecting them to the bustling Promenade slid smoothly shut. He was fortunate that they were on a minimally-staffed shift, so it took little time to inform the nurses that he’d be needing time alone with a patient.

Satisfied, Garak said, “Now, if you could return to your position behind me. Although perhaps not _directly_ behind me.”

Julian did as he was told. Apprehensively, he stood just a bit to the right of the Cardassian on the other side of the biobed. He watched as Garak reached a hand behind him and quickly found the implant, proceeding to tap it once, twice, three times in quick succession.

Before him, something long and gray began to shimmer into focus. Julian blinked a few times, the optical illusion nearly giving him a headache.

What was unmistakably a reptilian tail now sprawled, rather limply he noted, across the width of the bed and over the edge. He gaped at it, eyes wide as he followed it back to its source – Garak.

“I believe you should now be able to proceed with your examination unimpeded, Doctor.”

Julian was at a loss for how to respond. “I… don’t understand,” he managed. How could such a fundamental aspect of Cardassian anatomy slip by under his radar? He’d taken complete bioscans of the man many times before, and never had he encountered… _this_.

“It’s really quite simple,” Garak said sunnily. “The implant is in fact a personal holofilter, designed to emit an adaptive holographic field around my person, give or take a few feet. It alters my appearance to render all evidence of my tail completely invisible.”

This was a lot to digest, even by Julian’s standards. Perhaps it was because it went beyond science; this was an entire _body part_ his friend had that he was totally oblivious to. It felt like a failing on his part.

As he grappled with the revelation, Garak added, “The chip is also programmed to give off false bioreadings to fool your equipment. I suspect it was damaged in the fall, which is why you were getting the strange readings you did. If you’d like to try again…”

Feeling somewhat dazed, Julian picked up a nearby tricorder and ran it along the tail’s length. There it was, plain as day; sixteen caudal vertebrae housing an extension of the central nerve cord, wreathed in musculature and covered by thick, scaled skin. It connected seamlessly to the point that Julian had always taken to be the bottom of his spine – his, well, tailbone – by a central row of raised, armored scutes. At least it seemed that way, because in reality the very base of the tail disappeared into the fabric of Garak’s trousers in what was certainly deliberate tailoring work.

 _One thing at a time_ , he thought. Having gotten over the initial shock of such an abrupt introduction to Garak’s fifth major appendage, he could now see clear signs of inflammation; the area near the point of spinal attachment was swollen rather badly and the scales darkened, likely from a combination of increased blood flow and subcutaneous hemorrhaging. His scan confirmed his suspicion – the two basal vertebrae were fractured, and a few of his lower back were heavily bruised. On top of it, Garak had sprained his back, exacerbating his chronic lumbar pain. So much for a fun game of tennis.

The least he could do to start was make Garak more comfortable. He prepared and injected him with a muscle relaxant, which should stop the spasms for the time being.

“Hopefully this helps a little,” he said, feeling the muscles begin to unclench under his touch.

Garak exhaled deeply. “Yes, it’s beginning to feel better already.”

“Now, as for your spinal injuries…” Julian rifled through the drawer for the osteoregenerator. First thing’s first though – he needed to get that swelling down. Another injection, this time an anti-inflammatory, to the base of the tail. Unlike some of the instant remedies, it would take a few minutes to kick in, so Julian took advantage of the wait. From a cabinet he grabbed a blanket, and draped it over the shivering Cardassian’s shoulders.

“Most appreciated,” Garak murmured, and gratefully tugged it close around himself.

Julian came around to the front of him, leaning against a drawer. “So.” He crossed his arms. “Care to explain?”

Garak watched him with an amused twinkle in his eye and said nothing.

“Alright, I’ll start. That’s a very advanced piece of technology you’ve got there.”

That earned a smirk. “My dear doctor, do you really think the entirety of the Central Command’s fiscal year budget goes towards the military? It may seem that way at times, but I assure you the sciences thrive on Cardassia.”

“So it projects a mobile holofield and sends out faulty sensor readings to cover it up. Anything else I should know about?”

Garak’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes! It also emits a low level force field to prevent any _unsavory_ incidents.”

“How so?”

“Well a holographic projection wouldn’t be of much use if someone could just go right ahead and reach through the illusion, accident or not. The field is highly localized and mild enough to go undetected by most humanoids, so if you were about to touch my tail, you’d simply… be subconsciously compelled to redirect your hand elsewhere.” Garak was looking infuriatingly smug about the whole thing. “Perhaps you yourself noticed that you never once, during your examination, stood or placed your hands near my tail, despite having no idea it was there. Rather convenient, wouldn’t you agree?”

He hated when Garak was right. Even when he was closely inspecting the man’s lower vertebrae, he stopped before reaching the coccyx. Apparently he would have encountered the modified design of Garak’s trousers if he had kept going.

“There are… certain circumstances where the force field could be overpowered, of course,” Garak prompted, cocking an eye ridge.

Julian knew he wanted him to play along. You’d think by now he’d be able to resist the temptation. “Such as?”

“Well, sheer power of will would suffice. Now that you know it’s there, I suppose you could make a concerted effort and succeed. Alternatively, if I for instance wanted to make direct physical contact with someone using my tail, I most certainly could.”

Yes, yes, he understood the game. He shot Garak an incredulous look. “And have you? Used your tail for that?”

Garak glanced around the room shiftily, much like Quark when he had one of his sneaking suspicions that the Constable was posing as a barstool or half-finished glass of Saurian brandy, just waiting to spring out of hiding and bust him. “I may have – on very rare occasion mind you – caused a few unknowing Bajorans to stumble over themselves on their way across the Promenade. I have said, it’s best not to cross me when I’m in a foul mood. But, most of the time it simply comes in handy as a place to hang my tailoring tools.”

His expression was positively devilish. It screamed, _give me a slap on the wrist for my bad behavior whilst you secretly find me clever and enticing, and we’ll do it all again tomorrow because you enjoy this dance of ours as much as I._ Garak certainly made it seem like his provocative banter was entirely for Julian’s benefit, but the doctor recognized that this time, it was more than anything a way to distract himself from his pain. Nevertheless, Julian never tried to deny the truth in Garak’s unspoken words.

Luckily, he wasn’t faced with having to conjure up a witty rebuke. The swelling in Garak’s tail had gone down substantially, enough to begin work with the osteoregenerator. He cut the conversation short and returned to being Dr. Bashir, at least for the moment.

“Alright, hold still,” he said, bracing a hand on Garak’s shoulder just to ensure he obeyed. He set the instrument gently against the tail towards the base, on its side where the scaling was finer and the regenerator would penetrate the skin more effectively. He moved it slowly but continuously, covering the entire afflicted area within a minute or so. As he made his way up to Garak’s lower back to start on the bruised vertebrae, he asked, “After I’m done here, you will let me take a longer look at your tail, won’t you?”

He could feel Garak’s chuckle reverberate through his body, and tried to hold him down. “I would never think of depriving you of your chance to, as you say, _nerd out_.”

Julian rolled his eyes. The man truly was insufferable. Yet, after all it was Julian himself that kept coming back for more of it.

“I’d say you made out lucky, considering.” He packed up the osteoregenerator and fished the standard dermal regenerator out from the drawer. This should help speed up the healing process.

“You know what Cardassians say about luck.”

“Yes, that it doesn’t exist.” Bit by bit, the bruising faded to a barely noticeable shade of gray. “Did you have your tail hanging freely about when we were playing tennis?”

“Mm. I did, yes. Provides superior agility and balance.”

Now it was Julian’s turn to laugh. “Fat lot of good that did.”

“I was distracted.”

He took a moment to process that, letting it ruminate as he returned the tool to its place in the drawer. “All I’m saying is, it could have been a lot worse. Had you had your tail, I don’t know, curled up or something, and you’d landed right on it, we could have been looking at several more fractured or even broken vertebrae. More than that, if you’d fallen at only a slightly different angle, you could have been paralyzed from –”

Garak held up a hand to silence him. “Please Doctor, spare me the details. What matters is that thanks to you, I am healed in full.” As if to demonstrate, he waggled the tip of his tail about, hitting Julian in the calf and giving him a start.

“Well, not exactly,” he chided, as Garak’s whiplike tail continued to _thump_ against the loose fabric of his uniform. “The relief for your back is temporary, as you should know by now. I told you to put in for that special issue lumbar support mattress months ago. You clearly didn’t follow my recommendation.”

“You make it sound so simple, Doctor,” Garak replied with a huff. “Luxury accommodations for a suspected Cardassian spy aren’t exactly top priority for supply orders when a Dominion invasion could come at any moment. I’m afraid there are few on this station who care as much for my well-being as you, my dear.”

Julian wasn’t sure if he felt chuffed or sorry; a fair bit of both, he presumed. He came around the bed and ran a hand down Garak’s arm through the soft blanket. “I’ll make the request myself,” he whispered.

Garak looked at him unsteadily, then conceded. “If you want to abuse your position of power for an ailing old man such as myself, so be it…”

Julian smiled warmly at him. “Firstly, it’s my responsibility to prescribe the best treatment for your condition. Secondly, we both know I’ve risked more than just my position to get you the help you need before.” They shared a knowing glance. “And I’d do it again.”

Garak shivered, but he doubted it was from the cold. Noticing, Julian stepped back. “Oh, um, you can put your shirt back on now, I’m all done. Sorry about that.”

As he did so, he rose from the bed and Julian got his first complete look at, well, the complete Garak. His slender tail tapered gradually as it neared its apex, which hovered a few inches off the floor. Undoubtedly, Cardassians would never allow any part of themselves to be sullied with the dust, dirt, and various shed biological material that surely clung to the station’s surfaces. Overall, it looked to measure about a third longer than Garak’s leg height.

“Allow me to repay you for your kindness, Doctor,” Garak said, smoothing the wrinkles from his tunic. “Gawk and ogle to your heart’s content – I promise not to complain.”

Julian had been maintaining a strict air of professional detachment up to this point, but finally let the mask drop as his childlike wonder took over. He met Garak’s eyes, searching for approval. Garak smiled softly and gave him a cordial nod.

Nearly trembling with anticipation, Julian circled him, taking in every detail as if it were new. Quick as he could, he grabbed the nearby tricorder, reluctant to take his eyes off of that miraculous tail lest it disappear again forever. As he took every measurement under the sun, storing it on the device so he could pore over it for hours later, he almost didn’t want to break the dreamlike silence lest it spoil the magic. But, he had too many questions just waiting to burst forth. Where to start? He blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Is it prehensile?” He watched it wave about, end curled slightly.

“Not particularly. I certainly wouldn’t be able to swing from trees like your Terran apes.”

“Monkeys,” he corrected. “Apes are tailless. Humans are a species of ape, actually.”

“You don’t say. Yes, now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance.”

Julian took the cheeky jab in stride and kept on with his exploration, utterly entranced.

“You know, this makes so much sense,” he professed. “I always thought there was something off about Cardassians.” Garak raised his eye ridges at him incredulously, and he returned a sheepish grin. “What I _mean_ is, I never could wrap my head around how you kept balanced, how you manage to maintain that poise and elegance to your movement when you’re so…” He gestured widely at Garak. “So top-heavy! Something had to be offsetting that center of mass and I could never find that missing piece. Until now,” he breathed, nearly in reverence. “It’s exquisite, truly. A marvel of evolution.”

Garak wanted to roll his eyes at Julian’s boyish infatuation with something as _plain_ and _simple_ as a tail. But nothing ever was with him, was it? Not to that man. As Julian continued to fawn, Garak couldn’t help but feel adored. Not needed, just… wanted, which in some ways was more tantalizing, but in turn so utterly intangible. Leaving room for doubt, always doubt. _You’re getting desperate Elim, scrounging for any scraps you can get. Pitiful sentiment breaking your resolve from the inside out._ Yes well, there was no going back was there? This was all he had now. He’s learned to subsist on the scraps.

He allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Julian’s praise, pushing down the familiar voice chastising him for his petty indulgence. If it pleased Julian, it was permissible.

Meanwhile, Julian’s mind was whirring with answers to a million questions, but he was still struggling to reel them in and tie them down to figure out which belonged to which. Setting the tricorder on the bed, he bent down and extended an unsure hand towards the craggy gray scales that shone dully under the infirmary’s harsh light.

“May I…?” he asked, hand hovering.

Garak pursed his lips, but knew there was no saying no to the doctor. Not that he really wanted to. “You may.”

With the nervous excitement of opening a birthday gift, he let his hand slowly come to rest atop the central ridge of scutes. They were cool to his touch, and beneath his fingers he could discern their every detail, down to their minute surface furrows not unlike his own nails. Sensing no opposition, he slid his hand down further, lightly brushing his fingertips along the sides where the scaling was finer, giving it a granular feel. Suddenly Garak tensed, and Julian pulled back.

“I’m sorry, did I – did that hurt?”

Garak turned his head, and it seemed to Julian that he’d been lost in thought. “Hm? Not at all. It’s just… been a while since anyone’s touched my tail like that.” He smiled, and Julian’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, my god, this isn’t… _erotic_ for you or something, is it?” He stared at his own hands as if they’d committed some heinous act without his consent.

The smile widened into a grin. “Calm yourself Doctor, I assure you it isn’t. I simply meant that it tickles.” He hoped he wouldn’t regret making Julian privy to that sensitive piece of information.

Oh. Julian let himself breathe again. That would have been… something. Still, he got back to his feet and out of Garak’s personal space.

“Done so soon? And things were just getting fun.”

He smirked. As if he was going to let Garak win that easily. He could interrogate the man for hours if he wanted to, though his other patients might complain.

“Not at all, my dear Mr. Garak. I just thought I wouldn’t make you endure any more of such an uncomfortable experience.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

He did have more questions. Plenty more. He hoped this wouldn’t be the only chance he’d get to ask them. Perhaps – and he admitted it was far-fetched – Garak might consider disabling the implant when they were alone and out of the public eye, which wasn’t often, but still. He tried to boil down his thoughts into a few worthwhile, coherent ideas.

“I noticed your trousers have a, um… tail hole.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of Garak’s backside.

“Ah! I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. What do you think?” He flaunted himself a bit, and Julian nearly snorted.

Fishing for compliments, I see. How could he say no to such a shameless display? He tossed him a bone – “Yes, it’s excellent craftsmanship, absolutely.”

Garak was practically glowing. “You should see my other work! This one is most basic, simple exercise attire, suitable for a sweltering summer day on Cardassia Prime. My layered outfits require a bit more forethought. I usually keep my tail up, you see.”

Julian stared at him with knitted brows, awaiting an elaboration.

“Well, it’s necessary on this station!” Garak lamented. “The Promenade always so crowded, the shop too cluttered, and oh, the seating arrangements are deplorable. You have no idea how difficult it is, as a member of a tailed species, to sit cramped in those Federation-issue chairs.”

He was right, Julian didn’t. Years of lunches with Garak and not once did he notice his companion’s discomfort. Hiding his problems until they were literally killing him was Garak’s strong suit, after all.

“So what,” he teased, “you sew a little tail harness into your clothes?”

Garak shrugged him off. “You make it sound so crude, Doctor. Depending on the article of clothing, it indeed could be something of a pouch, or it might be a series of loose loops of fabric through which I can easily coil my tail. It’s one of the reasons I prefer more flowing garments, though full-length robes aren’t exactly ergonomic so I’ve made do with tunics and the like.”

Julian soaked up the information like a sponge. Years of trying to squeeze even the smallest truths out of this man (things like his own first name!) and suddenly, a mountain of them dumped on him out of the blue. After all of it, he still had one big question. The most important one, really.

“This is all well and good Garak, but _why_ do you hide your tail at all? To the extent of getting yourself microchipped to fool your own doctor.”

Garak’s expression grew solemn. He straightened himself, and took a deep breath. “Cardassians are, as you know, both a proud people and a secretive one. While that may seem a contradiction on the surface, in fact they go hand in hand. We detest being taken advantage of. Our tails, though a fundamental part of our being, are a liability.”

Julian listened intently, and almost didn’t want to seem disrespectful by interrupting. “How?”

“Centuries ago our world was in chaos. I needn’t burden you with the details again Doctor, as I’m sure you can recall them from our past discussions. After the military rule of the Central Command was established, our only option was to expand our territory, or allow the population to starve. It was during this time we came into contact with many more alien races than ever before, most often by the way of war. We wore ourselves proudly then, but it came at a cost.”

Garak’s gaze dropped, and he was silent for a moment. “Our enemies took great satisfaction in severing our tails, not just as retribution but as a prize. The spoils of war. Not unlike those among my kind who still keep Bajoran earrings like trophies in glass cases above their mantelpiece.”

A fire smoldered in Garak’s eyes, and Julian regretted the dark turn the conversation had taken. But despite himself, he wished they’d speak this way more often. He’d like to think Garak trusted him enough by now to have earned this honesty.

“Your tails, they don’t grow back?”

“No. It was said that in the past, our great war heroes displayed their scars for all to see, to inspire and rally to the cause. They gave a part of themselves in service of Cardassia, they were not ashamed. But nevertheless, to see our own mutilated so horrifically, it struck a hard blow to our spirit. It had to end, and so when the technology to conceal ourselves became available to us, we made every effort to erase all knowledge of our uncensored anatomy from the outside world.”

Julian got the distinct sense that he would meet a quick end if he ever divulged a word of this. Not that he thought Garak would harm him, of course not, but rather he was suddenly reminded of the uncanny speed at which news reached the Cardassian government, one way or another. 

“One of our prime targets for this cleansing was the Federation, of course. Doctor, you may very well be the first in Starfleet to ever see a Cardassian in all his unadulterated glory.” Garak’s lips twitched upwards. “You are well aware there’s very few outsiders on Cardassia Prime or its outlying colonies, so we’re perfectly comfortable displaying our tails on our home soil. But it became standard practice for all members of the military, off-world traders, and,” he gestured to himself, “Obsidian Order agents, to receive an implant in expectation of alien contact. It’s mandated we use it at all times until we return from an assignment. My dear Doctor, this is but another way we endeavor to serve our great state, to preserve our way of life and ensure the promise of a bright tomorrow for the generations after.”

Things were finally starting to slot into place in Julian’s mind. “So, this wasn’t so much your prerogative as something done out of a sense of duty. Even though you’re in exile, your loyalty to Cardassia prevails.”

Garak nodded, and fixed him with that pleased expression he gave when Julian at last understood the lesson of that week’s teachings. “And that in itself is a source of personal pride. It is most often the little things which keep one going in trying times. Knowing you have reason to hold your head up high when the world seems intent on beating you into submission.”

Garak stepped towards him, and placed his hands on Julian’s shoulders. “Besides,” he said, “you’ll be happy to know that there are other valid and even beneficial uses for going tailless. In recent years it’s helped immensely with diplomacy.” His hands slid down Julian’s arms and dropped back to his side as he wandered over to sit again on the biobed. “Not surprisingly, other species are more amenable to us when we appear more humanoid. Quells their fears of the ‘other.’ In my case it certainly helps with business.” He chuckled. “Leave it to Federation prejudice to work in our favor for once.”

He stretched, and winced as he angered his sore back. “I will say though, it does take a toll on the body, especially one as _seasoned_ as mine.”

Oh! Julian wanted to smack himself. How could he not have realized that Garak’s chronic back pain was caused by the stress of misaligning his basal caudal vertebrae day in and day out, inflaming the muscles and ligaments, just for ease of movement? The added pressure alone from shifting his body’s natural center of gravity was enough to cause lasting damage. Garak, you idiot, if only you could set your pride aside long enough to ask for help. Julian would have to start looking over those tricorder readings immediately to try and develop a more effective treatment than just hyposprays and a comfortable mattress.

“Well we’ll get you fixed up, I’ll see to it. As for your implant, I assume you’ll need to have it repaired or replaced?”

Garak quirked his eye ridges in contemplation. “Yes, it would seem that way. Being in exile makes it difficult to obtain the technology, but in a case like this, it would be in the best interest of the Central Command to approve my request.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Besides, if all else fails, we could always proposition Quark for his services.”

They both laughed. “Well, however you manage to get ahold of one,” Julian said, “I’d be happy to perform the procedure.”

Garak nodded appreciatively. “All of this because of a simple game of tennis,” he groused. “I had finally taken your advice to heart, and look where it got me.”

Julian crossed his arms and grinned. “Well don’t let one bad experience turn you off, Garak. If you want to get in shape, you’ve either got to stick to it or cut out the Delavian chocolates. Both or neither, your choice.”

“I know which I’d prefer,” he insinuated, coy smile tugging at his lips.

Heat crept into Julian’s cheeks. Bastard, utter bastard, trying to get the last laugh. Not this time.

“Well, I hope I’ve answered all of your myriad questions to your satisfaction, Doctor.” Garak reached a hand behind himself and reactivated the implant. His tail diffused back into a wave of distorted air and was gone, as if it had never been there at all. Julian couldn’t help but shake his head at the absurdity of it. “I trust you’ll keep your findings to yourself. I don’t want to open the latest Federation textbook and see my likeness under the chapter on Cardassian anatomy.”

Garak rose, making to leave, and promptly waited for Julian to open the door.

“I do have one more question,” Julian prodded, and Garak glared at him, both exasperation and curiosity in his expression.

“Yes, what is it?” he sighed. He was rather exhausted from all this honesty today. He’d met his quota for at least the next six months.

Julian took a step towards him, subtly blocking his way to the exit. “Why didn’t you just tell me about your tail? If not as your doctor, then as your friend?”

Garak tilted his head and smiled. “Surely I’m not obliged to reveal all my secrets to you as a requisite for our friendship. I thought the challenge was part of the fun. Besides, it wasn’t hurting anyone.”

“Except for the innocent people you’ve tripped on the Promenade,” Julian retorted, and Garak chuckled.

“Well…” He moved a bit closer into Garak’s space. “I suppose a secret for a secret’s only fair.”

Garak raised an eye ridge. “Oh? And what’s your secret?”

With that, Julian leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek, lingering there to whisper in his ear, “I really wish you’d ask me to dinner.”

As he pulled back grinning, he savored the stunned look on Garak’s face. _Gotcha. Looks like I win this round._

After a few very long seconds of silence, Garak blinked, and feebly tried to compose himself. “Well,” he breathed, “that’s one secret you needn’t have kept to yourself for so long, my dear Doctor.”

“Is that a yes, you’ll ask?”

Julian could almost hear the gears grinding in the man’s mind.

“H-how does 1800 hours tomorrow sound?” Garak stammered. “In my quarters,” he added quickly.

“It’s a date.”

Smug, Julian turned towards the wall panel, intending to open the door, when he nearly tripped. Catching himself he looked down, and while he saw nothing, he could without a doubt feel Garak’s tail coiled around his ankle.

Garak’s neck ridges flushed a charcoal gray and the tail slinked unseen back to its owner. “My apologies…it seems I got a bit overeager.”

Julian pressed a command and the doors to the Promenade glided open. “Take care of yourself Garak,” he cajoled as the Cardassian sheepishly wove himself and his invisible tail past him towards freedom. “I’ll try my best not to be such a distraction next time,” Julian murmured, relishing the embarrassment on Garak’s face as he beat a hasty retreat.

Strolling back into the infirmary, Julian couldn’t help but laugh. Victory was sweet, and it was all his today. But he had dinner to look forward to, and it would be Garak’s turn again. The ball, as they say, was in his court, and Julian did so enjoy the back-and-forth of a good tennis match. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone catch the ASIT reference in there? Yes, he did trip someone on the Promenade hehe.


End file.
